Page 8 of The Duke’s Lance (The Duke’s Guard #12)

E mily wrung her hands and shook her head. “Tell me again what the dowager duchess said in her letter to you?”

Helen continued packing her portmanteau, but glanced up and sighed at the expression on Emily’s face. Their relationship had changed over the years that she worked for Lord Montrose. It had been hesitant at first, gradually becoming more comfortable as they weathered the loss of Emily’s mother together. In the last few months, Emily had confided in Helen her hopes and dreams, and Helen had been tempted to do the same. When she confided her dream of seeing her friend find happiness, and a husband worthy of her, before she left Montrose House, Emily had not accepted it, reminding Helen that she doubted she would ever find a man she would consider marrying.

Looking at her friend now, happily wed and pregnant with her first babe, gave Helen the hope that Emily would not continue to harp on her desire to find a position as a paid companion to a member of the ton. “The letter is in my reticule. Read it for yourself.” After gently tucking the journal she had been keeping for the last six months, and her pencil, snug against the side of the leather bag, she closed it and turned around in time to see the frown on Emily’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Emily handed her the missive. “The tone of the dowager’s letter, for one. She sounds condescending. You haven’t had to deal with that before. Do you believe you can do so now?”

“I will have to, won’t I?” Helen was silent for a moment before adding, “Remember, she is a dowager duchess. I wouldn’t expect any less.”

“The Duke and Duchess of Wyndmere have never been condescending to you and me,” Emily reminded her. “I know it is not normal for members of the ton to treat their staff, and in the duke’s case, his private guard, as if they were extended members of their family, but they do. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you will be able to work for a woman with such an elevated opinion of herself?”

Helen smiled. “You do not need to worry about me anymore. It’s your new family where your concern should lie. I will be just fine.”

Emily hugged her. “Are you certain you need to leave this afternoon? Why can you not wait until the morning?”

“The sooner I leave, the sooner I shall get there. I do not think the dowager is used to waiting.”

“I should say not.”

“Then we agree.” To Helen’s dismay, Emily’s eyes welled with tears. Hoping to stem the flow, she asked, “Will you come with me to say goodbye to Her Grace?”

“Of course.” Emily slipped her arm through Helen’s and led the way to the sitting room adjacent to the nursery, where the duchess would be found this time of day.

Helen knocked on the door, and the duke opened it and held the door for them to enter. Had he been waiting for them? Helen was nervous as to what His Grace might say to her, but he immediately put her at ease, motioning for her and Emily to join them in the sitting room.

The duchess smiled and started to rise, but the duke shook his head. “Remember what the doctor said, love. Either rest sitting or in bed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I shall sit.” When Emily and Helen sat on the settee, she sighed. “Is it true then, Helen—you’re leaving us?”

“Yes, Your Grace. It is an opportunity I cannot pass up.”

Persephone glanced at her husband, who gave a brief nod. “Jared and I would like you to reconsider. Richard and Abigail have taken to you. They are quite selective, you know.”

Helen smiled. She did know. “They were hesitant around me at first, too. They are such sweet, happy babes. It is impossible not to love them.” But Their Graces’ babes weren’t the only ones at Wyndmere Hall that were impossible not to love.

Eamon…

Just like that, she remembered the look in O’Malley’s eyes when she refused his offer of marriage. She had been half in love with him since the moment their eyes met that first day. But she didn’t believe it was a feeling that could last once he found out about her past.

The duke put his hands behind his back and nodded to her. “If you decide the position is not to your liking, I sincerely hope you will send word. I shall have a carriage sent for you. You will always be welcome here at Wyndmere Hall. And not just by Her Grace and me.”

His meaning was not lost on Helen. She had a suspicion that the men in the duke’s guard, and possibly the staff, knew that O’Malley had proposed to her—and that she’d refused. What no one knew was why, and she wanted to keep it that way. She was not some silly miss whose head could be turned by broad shoulders, a firm jaw, and a handsome face.

O’Malley’s face popped into her head, and she inwardly sighed. Don’t forget the power of his smile and brilliant green eyes, her heart reminded her head. No, there was no chance that she would forget Eamon O’Malley. He would forever hold a place in her heart.

Forcing those thoughts aside, she smiled at the duke and duchess and thanked them again. Emily accompanied her back to her room to collect her portmanteau. They stopped in the kitchen, where Constance and Merry were waiting to say their goodbyes. Humphries nodded to them as he took her bag and opened the door for her. She stared at the shiny black coach-and-four waiting outside, wondering whom it belonged to—the duke’s crest was not emblazoned on the side. But it wouldn’t matter whom it belonged to. She was leaving.

“I’ll just get out of your way.” Helen started to walk toward the road to the village. She enjoyed walking, and looked forward to the time to think—mayhap it would help to purge Eamon O’Malley from her mind and heart.

“Wait, Miss Helen,” Humphries called to her as a footman opened the door to the carriage.

“Does whomever is in the carriage wish to speak to me?”

Emily caught up with her, slipped her arm through Helen’s, and steered her toward the coach. “His Grace is sending you to the Borderlands in one of his carriages.”

Helen froze, ignoring when Emily tugged on her arm to get her moving. “Why would he do that?”

“I would imagine to ensure you arrived safely, Miss,” Humphries replied.

“But he’s only just met me,” Helen protested.

“It has been some weeks,” the butler reminded her.

“And the twins love you,” Emily added. “Their Graces haven’t given up hope that you will return to Wyndmere Hall.”

“True, Mrs. Garahan,” Humphries said. “You have been a welcome addition, Miss Helen.”

“That she has.”

Helen spun around and gasped. “How long have you been standing there?”

O’Malley’s eyes swirled with too many emotions to name. “Long enough to add me hope that you will return not just to the hall,” he rasped, “but to me.”

Helen drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She was weakening and couldn’t. “Wish me well?”

He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. “With all me heart, lass, until ye return.”

When she moved forward, his confident look slipped. He quickly adopted a neutral expression and handed her into the carriage. When she was seated, he leaned into the carriage and locked gazes with her. “Be well, mo chroí .”

She blinked. Garahan and Patrick used those words when speaking to their wives. She wondered what it meant, and was about to ask, but O’Malley closed the door and stepped back from the carriage. She slumped against the leather squabs, ignoring the comfort, and closed her eyes. Why was it so important to throw away the promise of the love of a good man?

“Because he deserves a wife who never scrounged for food by picking pockets.” The tears came, and she gave in and let them fall.